The Empress and the Cake

by Linda Stift

  *

  Frau Hohenembs no longer let us out of her sight, we had to go for walks with her, she gave us errands we had to run separately from each other. I still didn’t have my own set of keys. Even at night Frau Hohenembs would stay up, wander round the apartment, hang on the rings in the door frame, put on the Sissi videos or pseudo-documentaries about cosmetic surgery to make us believe that she’d be spending a quiet hour or two in the TV chair, but then she’d turn up unexpectedly in every room in the apartment. A confidential conversation with Ida was impossible. The parrots rasped ill-temperedly to themselves and pecked at the bars if you got close to their cage. They weren’t parroting back what we said any more. Ida and I had to be present at the Greek lessons and repeat the Greek phrases without knowing what they meant. Ida couldn’t start making lunch until after the lesson. A little education won’t harm you; one’s never too old to learn a new language, Frau Hohenembs said waspishly. Hungarian would be better, I thought, and refused to repeat Greek words any differently from a parrot. But I didn’t learn Hungarian either; I didn’t have any time. When I was in my room I stuffed myself with violet pralines and other food, and just as they were beginning to be digested I’d let them surge back into the jars in a gooey flood. Then I’d lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling. The mountain of boxes in the cupboard grew smaller; Ida, too, took out her daily ration and Frau Hohenembs hadn’t said anything yet. The baron didn’t come back to the apartment; Ida would meet up with him when she was out shopping or running errands for Frau Hohenembs. She returned from these errands with the same expression on her face that I’d seen at the ball. Frau Hohenembs complained that Ida took too long, she was never there when she was needed, she really shouldn’t dawdle. She increasingly sent me out instead. Then the baron would approach, trembling and skipping from the other side of the road, and ask after Ida – wasn’t she coming out today? The first time we met I asked him outright whether he could help us escape, get us passports, take us over the border and hide us in Budapest. Impossible, he said, he was under an obligation to Frau Hohenembs, he couldn’t go behind her back, and, in any case, he had no idea how to get passports and he didn’t have any connections in Hungary; he’d been separated from his home country for too long. His secret meetings with Ida were risky enough – if his wife found out, that was it. Looking at me, he said sadly, You’re still young, you attach such importance to every word. A man will say anything to wriggle out of a difficult situation. By the next day he’s totally forgotten what he said. It doesn’t worry him any more. Ida knows this; she’s a woman of experience. Think about it whenever a man makes you a promise. He walked away, swinging his arms. I did my shopping and went to sit on a park bench opposite my old flat. The windows had been cleaned recently and reflected the sunlight like mirrors. If only I could turn back time and stand at those windows again to look out at the park. I cursed the day Frau Hohenembs had spoken to me outside the patisserie. How often had I imagined someone sitting on this bench, watching my windows or me wandering about in the flat? It would never have occurred to me that I might be sitting here one day, wishing I could have my old life back. A cloud blocked out the sun for a few minutes and I could see that the blinds were down, but the slats were horizontal. A silhouette moved behind one of the windows and for a second I thought it was Charlotte. Then the sun came back out and I was looking at the reflecting panes of glass once more. Picking up the shopping bags, I returned to Frau Hohenembs’s apartment. I rang and she opened the door at once, as if she’d been waiting there the whole time. What took you so long? she cried. I could have sent Ida instead. She dragged me in and shut the door. Come on, come on, Ida’s waiting for those things to make lunch. We’re already late again! And besides, if you think I haven’t noticed that you and Ida are stealing pralines from the cupboard then you’re very much mistaken. You’d better watch it! Without saying a word, I went into the kitchen and put the shopping on the table. What more can she do to me? I thought. I decided I’d escape alone. In any case, I couldn’t rely on Ida; she’d long since resigned herself to her fate and was enjoying some late-found happiness with the baron, which she surely couldn’t ever have anticipated. She didn’t believe in Corfu any more. And there was no way she’d give up the baron. The baron himself was quite content with this little liaison that brightened up his days, and he certainly wouldn’t gamble it on some questionable adventure that held nothing in prospect for him. I decided that, as soon as Frau Hohenembs sent me on another errand, I’d go to Vienna South station and jump on a train to Bratislava. Within an hour I’d be over the border in Slovakia with my own passport before Frau Hohenembs had noticed that I was missing. From Bratislava I could go on to Prague or Berlin. There must be desperate people in Berlin, too, who needed help decluttering. The key thing was that there mustn’t be too much time between leaving the apartment and the train’s departure. I didn’t know how many trains a day went to Bratislava. Hopefully more than just one or two. I also needed cash. Which meant I’d have to save up my pocket money. My stomach tightened. Full of hatred, I looked at my tummy. It was almost flat. If I stood up straight it curved outwards very slightly. Only if I pulled it in was it concave. But I didn’t want to pull it in any more. I no longer wanted to let my belly govern my life. I weighed forty-seven kilograms. That was a good weight; I could put on three kilos or lose a couple without a bad conscience – it didn’t matter. At this weight I was in the safety zone. I checked my supplies. A wrapped-up marble cake, biscuits, banana chips. The provisions for my escape. I counted my money: ten euros. That would get me to Bratislava at most. My savings had long since gone. Unfortunately, I didn’t know where Frau Hohenembs kept her money. The coins had been a stroke of luck. I could have taken a few items of jewellery – she often left stuff lying around in the drawing room – but where and how would I sell them? Ida managed the housekeeping money. She always took the notes from the pocket sewn onto her housecoat, as if she harboured an inexhaustible source of money. It was too risky to ask Ida for cash. Even though she’d been much more affable recently, I didn’t trust her. She remained loyal to Frau Hohenembs and her affair with the baron was probably the most she dared undertake. Perhaps I could tap the baron for some money. If I threatened to spill the beans about his affair to his wife. But wouldn’t he tell Ida straight away? I needed a plausible reason why he should keep it quiet from Ida. Perhaps by using the same threat: if he told Ida, I’d tell his wife. The ideal scenario would be to get the money on the day of my escape. In any case, he was always standing at the corner waiting for Ida, and he’d make a long face if I came out instead of her. Once I had to free him from a dog that had run around him several times with its lead. The strap had got hooked onto a piece of metal sticking out from a road sign and the baron ended up being tied to it. The owner only came strolling along a few minutes later. He didn’t apologize and took the lead from me without saying anything. The baron was so ashamed that he didn’t utter a word either. We could go to the bank together; it wouldn’t have to be much, 3,000 euros, say. He couldn’t refuse me that. I hoped that he had his own money; he had bragged about his finances when proposing marriage, but that could have all been a lie. Maybe his wife allowed him a small amount of pocket money, just as with Frau Hohenembs and me. When she sent me to the dressmaker’s to fetch some sort of bodice, I went into an internet café and printed out the timetable from Vienna to Bratislava. To my surprise there was a train every thirty minutes and the journey took just over an hour. The last one was at 00.12, the first at 05.28. I could get a train any time of day. I couldn’t find out about trains from Bratislava to Prague; the site kept crashing. It didn’t matter, as I suspected that Frau Hohenembs didn’t have contacts in Slovakia or the Czech Republic any longer, and certainly not with the police. She spoke Hungarian but no Czech or Slovak. I packed my handbag – passport, toothbrush, three pairs of knickers, address book, timetable and the wrapped-up marble cake – so that I’d be ready any time Frau Hohenembs sent me on an errand. W
hen we ate together Ida would pile up my plate with food that I barely touched. I was too nervous. You’ve got to eat, she said with concern in her voice, You’re getting awfully thin. Leave her alone, Frau Hohenembs said. Don’t always force people to eat. I mean, heaven forbid it wouldn’t do you any harm to eat less and get rid of some of that fat. And when are you finally going to stop chewing your nails? Ida said nothing, but still stuck to her eating habits: lots and fast. Over the next few days I lurked around Ida and kept asking her whether she needed anything from the supermarket. I thought she must have noticed, but she didn’t seem to smell a rat. After all, she took every opportunity to leave the apartment herself. And then came the moment. Frau Hohenembs wanted me to take some shoes to the cobbler’s. I took the box with the shoes and my handbag, and left the apartment. I wondered where I should throw away the shoes – right here or at the station – and opted for the station. The baron was not in his usual place. Blood rushed straight to my head. I waited at the corner for a while, shifting from one foot to the other, swinging the box of shoes to and fro as if imitating the baron’s tic, and looked out for him – he’d probably just popped into a café. Then I remembered that Ida had gone shopping that morning; of course, he didn’t need to wait for her any more. Which was one thing I hadn’t accounted for in my plan – it could only work on a day when Ida hadn’t been out before me. Downcast, I went to the Turkish cobbler’s and handed over the shoes. He gave me an orange receipt. The shoes would be ready in a week. Two days later Frau Hohenembs sent both Ida and me shopping, something she hadn’t done since the scandalous episode with the baron. I didn’t even bother taking my handbag. The baron was already fidgeting on the other side of the street. We’d meet up again in an hour. She came back without the baron, but with her blissful smile. At home Frau Hohenembs started berating her: What do you think you’re grinning at? Concentrate on the washing! I’ve got nothing left to wear. Ida opened the door to her bedroom; the dog was lying among all the unironed laundry. He’d messed everything up and the laundry was full of dog hairs. Ida shooed him away. The washing would have to be done again. I was convinced that Frau Hohenembs had deliberately let the dog into Ida’s room. I went to the kitchen and put the shopping in the fridge. From the drawing room, Frau Hohenembs ordered me to make some tea and open a box of pralines. As I was bringing both into her, the box of pralines slipped from my hand and the confectionery fell on the table and floor, where it was immediately gobbled up by the dog. He moved his muzzle along the parquet like a Hoover. What is wrong with the two of you? Frau Hohenembs ranted. You’re useless, both of you! And when are you finally going to wear a housecoat? I can’t watch you any more. I fetched a glass bowl, gathered up the rest of the pralines and plonked them on the table. Never, I spat between my teeth. I’m never going to wear a housecoat. I retired to my room. Useless, useless, the parrots called out after me. It was the first thing they’d said since the ball. All I needed now was for Frau Hohenembs to start calling me by my first name. But I’d be long gone by them. The following morning Frau Hohenembs gave me 100 euros and the address of a shop that sold work clothes. She told me to go there and buy two or three housecoats. No more buts! My continual objections were ridiculous – as if wearing one was going to hurt! My housecoats didn’t have to be white like Ida’s; I could choose the colour and pattern I wanted. It was morning, Ida had not yet been out, I’d need longer than an hour for this errand, Frau Hohenembs wouldn’t wonder where I was until after two or even three hours, I had 100 euros in addition to whatever I could blackmail the baron for and the banks were open. Taking the money and my handbag, I waved goodbye. Well, well, Frau Hohenembs said, no objections this time? You’re right, I replied. It is childish of me. I’m sure a housecoat will be very practical.

  *

  Secret agents had a colossal job with her. My kedvesem used to go out for walks at the oddest hours; it was not uncommon to find her taking a stroll in the woods at three in the morning. The emperor had assigned them the task of being on their guard day and night, and not to let her out of their sight under any circumstances. But few people were as fit as she. She could hike for eight hours in the most difficult terrain, without displaying any tiredness. What is more, the secret agents were to stalk her unobtrusively, so she did not notice; they had to keep at least 200 metres away from her at all times. For she hated nothing more than being spied upon. The agents would hide behind trees and rocks, but that did not help. She always noticed when they were on her tail, and she almost always managed to shake off the portly officials. If necessary she would leap over a fence like a deer, or vanish onto secret, dark paths that only she knew.

  *

  Rather than waste any time on small talk, I offered a brief explanation before demanding money from the baron. Well I never, he said, but then agreed to the blackmail. In a brief spasm he shook himself like a wet dog. His branch was a couple of streets further down, he said. He could withdraw the 3,000 euros there. He gave it to me in the foyer in an envelope containing ten-euro and hundred-euro notes. Well, well, a young woman like you and then something like this. You’re not living up to your title; our empress would be turning in her grave. To begin with, I didn’t know what he was talking about, but then I remembered the Miss Sissi competition. What do you need the money for anyway? he asked. I didn’t reply, but gave a terse Thanks. We went our separate ways; I don’t know if he returned to his spot to wait for Ida. I ran for the bus that was going to the station. A train for Bratislava was leaving in twenty minutes. At the station I bought a single ticket, some mineral water, a newspaper, and got on the train. I was free! The train set off. I was alone in the compartment. An intricate nexus of railway tracks and graffiti-covered station buildings passed by, overgrown green areas with decommissioned carriages and crumbling factories or orange-brick warehouses. I was comforted by the clickety-clack of the train rolling across the sleepers. Maybe Charlotte could join me later. She’d always said she didn’t want to remain in Vienna for ever. I opened my bag to check the contents. Passport, money, marble cake, knickers – everything was there. I leafed through the newspaper without being able to take anything in. It was almost exactly an hour since I’d left Frau Hohenembs’s apartment. She wouldn’t be missing me yet. By the time she started to become suspicious I’d be over the border and – if I was lucky – already on a train to Prague. At the border the train stopped and customs officers boarded with Bernese mountain dogs on short leashes. The dogs’ black coats with the red-and-white badges gleamed in the sun. The compartment doors were opened and the customs officers politely asked to see passports. Three of them came in while a fourth stayed outside with a dog. One officer took my passport and gave it a lengthy examination, scrutinizing the photograph. You’ve got a different hairstyle, he said in a friendly tone. Yes, I said. So? We’ve got to take you with us, please get out! Because my hair’s different? Which woman has the same hairstyle as on her passport photo? They didn’t give me an answer, but kept hold of the passport, and I had to leave the train with them. I pressed my handbag to my body. They couldn’t take my money, could they? Had the baron filed a complaint? They were not interested in my bag, but took me to the customs booth, where I had to wait. A Bernese mountain dog lay down on my feet and fell asleep. The train left. After half an hour of sitting uncomfortably and with hot feet because of the dog, two police officers came. A man and a woman – I recognized them immediately in spite of their uniform. It was the couple who’d taken over my flat. Now it dawned on me where I’d seen them even before then: in the supermarket. The detective who’d found the tins of caviar in my bag and the woman who’d come to my assistance. They told me to accompany them. I looked at the customs officer sitting at the desk, typing something into his computer. He handed me over to his supposed colleagues and went back to his work without glancing up. He wasn’t interested in what happened to me. I should have shouted, begged him not to leave me at the mercy of fake police officers, I should have been able to tell him the story abou
t the supermarket, the flat and the intrigue involving the property-management company. He wouldn’t have believed me, of course. The two agents must have counterfeit papers identifying themselves as police officers. Don’t start getting any silly ideas! If you make things difficult we’ll put you in handcuffs. They moved to either side of me, each of them taking an arm, and led me to their car. They sat me in the back, locked both doors from the outside and got in the front. A glass partition reinforced with metal rods separated the front and back seats. I put my forehead against the window. The wind turbines with their slim, white propellers waved from the distance, the flat fields looked like enormous green carpets covering the landscape, hiding who knew what beneath. The flat vineyards I could never get used to – for me, vineyards have to be hilly, even steep; a proper wine has to come from a slope – the crouched, whitewashed winemakers’ houses, all this flew past a second time, now in the opposite direction, as if to add insult to injury. I closed my eyes. In one year at most I’d go walking with Charlotte down the Kurfürstendamm and we’d have our own little flat in Prenzlauer Berg, perhaps a little restaurant, a bar or a food stand. When I opened my eyes we were parking in front of Frau Hohenembs’s house, in the very spot where there was never a free parking space, no matter what time of day or night. The fake police officers let me get out, then took my arms again. We climbed the steps, the woman rang the bell and Ida opened the door, holding an unopened tin of Russian caviar in her other hand. Her round face beamed. She’s back! We’ve missed her so much! The dog leaped up at me. Putting his front paws around my neck, he was about to lick my face, which I tried to prevent by pushing his head down with both hands. It was the first time that he hadn’t tried to thrust his muzzle between my legs straight away. From the drawing room I could hear the parrots say, She’s back, she’s back, not squawking as usual but with almost melodious voices, as if they’d swallowed chalk. Frau Hohenembs pushed Ida to one side and thanked the police officers. I’m very sorry she’s caused you so much trouble. She does run away sometimes, but she’s never got that far before. She almost escaped over the border! She threatened me with her index finger, then raised her shoulders ruefully. The man made a slight bow and tapped a finger on his cap. No big deal for us, these sorts of things happen almost every day, just keep a more watchful eye on her in future. Ha, you don’t need to tell me that; she’s always trying to outsmart us, our little runaway. She giggled with her hand in front of her mouth. It’s hard to understand, the man said. You’d think anyone would feel happy in a house like this. But people are never satisfied with what they’ve got. We see all sorts of things, Frau Hohenembs, believe you me. What a drama! And all because of me. I tried to run away, but Ida held tightly onto my arm like a vice, whispering into my ear, Don’t be stupid, that won’t get you anywhere, make the best of it. The dog put his tall body in my way and leaned his warmth against my belly. The fake policeman turned around briefly and smiled, then the two of them were gone and Ida closed the door.